


Run Through the Fields

by MooseFeels



Series: In the Kingdom Come [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cabins, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Lakes, PTSD, high school/college age, it's in the water
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are pretty happy at Lake Milton. Dean's pretty happy with Castiel. Castiel's pretty happy with him.<br/>It just figures that it would all go to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His head was in Castiel’s lap the first time it happened around him. Most nights, when they slept together (Dean slipping through Castiel’s big bay window, still damp from swimming across the cold lake), Dean slept all the way through the night safe and sound.

It was an afternoon, though, and the sunlight was coming strong and clear through the window. Dean had stretched out across Castiel’s bed, Castiel at the headboard, wandering through _Paradise Lost._ His breath had been the slow ease of obvious sleep for long minutes, and then it stilled and shuddered suddenly.

Castiel looked down at Dean over the edge of the book and felt his heart hurt.

Dean had told him a lot of things, the past couple of weeks. His mother’s death in a fire. How the fire had been wrong. Growing up knowing the things he couldn’t tell his brother. Holding tight onto the lie- go to sleep, Sammy, there’s nothing in the closet. And sometimes, as he told him, his voice would grow soft and then not be there at all. Would curl up against Castiel’s side and say the things he couldn’t say with his mouth with the way his nose nudged up against his pulse point, with the warm heat of his mouth along his neck.

This was new, though.

Dean’s face was folded into a contortion of pain, a whimper coming from something deep and dark and broken inside of Dean.

Castiel set his book down and brushed Dean’s hair out of his face- an action that did little good, seeing how as Dean’s hair was cut so short. “Dean?” He said softly. “Dean?”

Dean woke up, coughing, green eyes swimming in his head until they focused on Castiel.  His breath settled back down.

He looked lost- terrified and small- for a moment, and then he smiled and that smile was also a broken, lost thing.

“Hey, angel,” he said softly.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answered. “Are you okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a bad dream is all.” He found Castiel’s hand in his hair and wrapped his fingers into it.

Since they’d started being whatever it was they were to each other, Castiel had started spending more time outside. He’d bring Dean lunch (because Dean had a funny habit of ‘forgetting’ to pack his own) or he’d sit on the dock and read or he’d walk through the park and check on the campgrounds as Dean did his rounds. Every once in a while, on these walks, Dean would stop and he’d look at a tree and he’d smile. Dig out a pocketknife and show Castiel the scars in the bark that indicated someone had wanted this place protected a long time ago- Look, that’s a rune, he’d say, that’s from some weird dialect of norse. The one we found last week, that was the language of angels. All made up by some British fruit, though, not sure if I believe in that- and Castiel would smile Dean’s bizarrely encyclopedic knowledge of such things, and he’d laugh at the prospect of something Dean didn’t believe in.

Castiel’s fingers, woven with Dean’s, were not as pale as they would have been weeks ago.

Dean brought their hands a little lower and kissed between his own fingers to catch Castiel’s knuckles. Castiel smiled fondly down at him, and it eased the anxiety that Dean always felt after waking up. Silenced the call of Sammy Sammy Sammy is Sammy okay where’s Sammy.

“Is it always like that?” Castiel asked. “The nightmares?”

Dean shook his head. “No,” he answered. “It’s just a thing, it doesn’t happen that often.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Castiel replied.

“You’re worse,” Dean shot back, and Castiel laughed. “The hunts don’t always like to go away,” he said. “I get bad dreams sometimes, sure, but I’ve been through-”

“Worse, I know,” Castiel interrupted. It had almost been Dean’s mantra. I’ve been through worse, rang between them like a spectre, and it hurt because Castiel had trouble imagining worse. Kept him awake on the nights when Dean didn’t come through his window.

Castiel’s free hand found it’s way to Dean’s chest, to rest over the long scar.

“You’re real weird, you know that, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I know,” was the answer.

They stayed like that, content in the shade of Dean’s memory, until there was a knock on the door. Dean sat up as Castiel called, “Come in!”

Jo stuck her head in the door. “Dinner’s gonna be ready soon. You might want to go get Sam,” She said.

Dean blushed. “That’s really not necessary-” he began.

“You’re my little brother’s boyfriend and you practically live here anyway. You’re staying for dinner,” she said with certain finality.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean replied as Jo nodded and shut the door. He turned back to Castiel and began to strip from his shoes and socks. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I know,” Castiel said.

He watched Dean run down the pier and dive into the water. He’d change out of his t-shirt and pants at the cabin and walk back with Sam. He’d be back in about twenty minutes.

He picked up his book and filed it in with the other ones on his bookcase, let his fingers linger a little over the cloth of their spines.

It felt like that afternoon in the cave had been years ago sometimes, and sometimes it was like his ancestor had never left the space between his tendons and his bones. He still felt like he was clinging to every breath, sometimes. Still woke up with roaring migraines that made him shy away from light and sound.

Anna and Jo had taken him back to the hospital, run him through machines and checked his blood. The doctors just told them it was a migraine condition- a stress reaction and nothing else.

Dean and Sam had laid lines of salt along their doorframes and windows, carved sigils in the wood of his bed and desk, and said long lines of latin. Castiel had kissed Dean and told him that sometimes, things just happened, things weren’t always ghosts.

He felt like a ghost himself, sometimes, but there was something grounding in the books and there was something grounding in Dean.

He shut the door to his bedroom as he walked to the kitchen to help Jo cook.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The water of the lake became murky as Dean went deep, but he didn’t much care to dive real far. Just deep enough that he could shoot, desperate and panting to the surface. There was something propelling to suffocation that he couldn’t capture in anything else. His legs shook as he pulled himself out of the water and walked to the cabin. His clothes stuck to him, sticky and a little scummy from the water, and he was unbuttoning his pants as he walked into the house.  
"Sam!" He called. "We're going to Cas's for dinner!"  
"Kay!" Sam answered from the back of the house.  
"Gonna take a quick shower," Dean said. "Don't worry about hurrying."  
The water was cold- their hot water heater had bitten it a couple of days ago and Dean hadn't gotten around to repairing it in his spare time. His forgetfulness gnawed at him guiltily- he didn’t mind all that much and Sam wouldn’t say anything but his brother shouldn’t have to be cold. He scrubbed his hair and face before getting out and drying off.   
Sam stretched as he walked out of his room and smiled at Dean. “Go for a swim?” He asked.   
Dean smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Plan on walking back, though. Anna and Jo want to see you, too.”  
Sam shoved on his shoes as Dean threw on his clothes, and soon they were dressed and ready to go. Dean locked the door behind them as he asked, “How’s school going?”  
Sam shrugged. “It’s alright. We’re reading To Kill a Mockingbird again,” he said.   
Dean laughed. “How many times is this for you?” He asked.   
“Fourth,” Sam answered.   
“Well, hopefully this is the last,” Dean said as he turned around and started down the path that the lead around the edge of the lake.   
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Hopefully.” He bit his bottom lip and kicked a rock. It stuttered down the path before landing a few feet away. “Dad’s not coming back, is he?” He asked.  
They’d been there nearly eight months, and while Bobby had called many, many times they hadn’t heard a single word from their father.   
“Dad,” Dean began. “Dad...when Mom died he-”  
“He broke, I know,” Sam said. “Grief changes a man, I know, I know.”  
Dean nodded. “He still loves you,” he said.   
Sam nodded back.  
They didn’t speak for the rest of the walk.

The smell of rosemary hung heavy on the air, accompanied by the greedy sweetness of honey. Glazed carrots, Castiel thought, peering at a closed skillet. He heard the bubbling sound of boiling water trying to escape from a pot. “You’re about to boil over,” he said.   
“Shit,” Jo said. “If I fuck this up, Anna will never let me hear the end of it.”  
“Where is she, anyway?” Castiel asked. “I haven’t seen her all day.”   
“She had to go to the office,” She said. “Went out late last night. She stayed with father and started driving back this afternoon. She’ll be home soon.”   
Castiel smiled. “Do you need some help?”   
Jo ran a hand through her hair, streaking it with flour. “I can’t get the pasta machine to agree with me,” she nearly wailed.   
Castiel nodded, glancing over to the kitchen table.   
The pasta machine was a rather small metal press, driven by a crank. A great halo of flour surrounded it, punctuated by sad blobs of dough. Great sheets of torn pasta lay near the machine.   
Castiel grabbed an apron from the pantry and tied it around his waist.   
He floured his hands and re-gathered the bright yellow dough into elastic blobs. The movement came easily, quickly.  
“Your dough is too warm,” he said. “I’m going to put it on ice for about fifteen minutes.”   
“You’re a life-saver,” Jo said over the sound of a whisk working frantically at the bottom of a pot.   
Castiel wrapped the dough in plastic wrap and slid it into the freezer. He swept the flour from the floor and cleaned up the table and brushed his hands off on the apron and turned the heat down on the water. He’d gotten that all sorted by the time the dough had firmed back up a bit. He was pulling the first lump out of the fridge when a knock came on the door.   
Jo left the kitchen to handle it as Castiel flatten the dough into a rough disk and ran it through the machine on the thickest setting.   
There was something intensely comforting, something soothing to working in the kitchen, and Castiel found himself so involved in the process of rolling and cutting the pasta that he didn’t notice Dean and Sam until Dean’s hands wrapped over his waist and his voice said low in his ear, “Hey good lookin’.”  
The moment was short lived- Jo smacked Dean with a wooden spoon and he jerked away. “Ow!” he cried.  
“Hands off my baby brother, you delinquent!” Jo said, returning to the stove.   
Castiel smiled. “You’re very well timed, Dean,” he said. “I could use another set of hands.”  
Dean grinned. “Anything,” he answered. “Let me just get my mitts washed.”  
Sam was watching Jo at the stove. “I thought this was more of your sister’s thing,” he said.   
“Yeah,” Jo answered, covering the beginnings of a sauce and putting it on a back burner. “It usually is. She’s in the office, though, and she’ll want a good meal when she gets back. How much longer will that pasta be, Castiel?” She asked over her shoulder. “I don’t know how much longer this sauce will be fit to stand.”  
“Give it ten minutes to dry and then throw it in. It won’t be ideal, but it will work,” he answered.   
“Shit,” Jo hissed. “Alright. I’m sliding the carrots into the oven to keep warm, then.”  
Castiel turned to Dean, who reached over and dried his hands on Castiel’s apron. “Have you ever done this before?” He asked. Dean shook his head. “Alright,” he continued, “I’m going feed the dough into the machine. I need you to crank the handle steadily as I feed it and pull it out.”  
Dean nodded. “Slow and steady, yeah?”  
“Yes,” Castiel said.   
They worked together quietly, running into fewer snags than Castiel would have if he had been working alone. Soon they had rolled and cut the first portion of dough, and they made short work of the second portion. Castiel set the timer for ten minutes and wiped his floury hands off on the apron.   
“Nice piece,” Dean said, pointing to the article of clothing.   
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Some of us,” he said, “are secure enough in our masculinity to enjoy a floral print, Mr. Winchester.”   
Dean laughed. “Didn’t say it looked bad, angel,” he replied. “Besides, it stopped you from making a mess of your rear like I did.” He turned around, and Castiel snorted at the white handprints that smeared the seat of Dean’s jeans.   
“I’ll make one for you for the next time you come over,” Castiel said. He slid the pot of water back onto the eye so that it could pick a boil back up. “If you’re going to be sticking around, you’ll be in the kitchen a fair amount.”  
“God have mercy on us all,” Sam muttered from the stove, where Jo had deputized him with stirring.   
“Hey now, I’ve kept you fed for thirteen years now,” Dean laughed. “Quit your bitchin’.”  
Jo leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “I thought you were only thirteen,” she said.  
“Well, yeah,” Sam answered, “but Dad usually had a hunt or something. Dean took care of us.”  
Jo looked at Dean and he shrugged. “Gotta take care of my little brother,” he said. “You get it, you’re an older sibling.”  
The door opened from the front of the house and shut quickly. Anna stormed into the kitchen, her red hair flying wildly.   
“Zachariah Adler,” she shouted, “is the bane of my existence and a real son of a bitch.”  
Jo’s face fell and she walked toward her sister, arms open in embrace. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Oh, honey, I’m real sorry.” She looked over at Castiel and widened her eyes.   
Castiel nodded and opened a cabinet, pulling out a crystal tumbler. He reached into into the freezer and pulled out an oversized chunk of ice. It fell into the tumbler with an audible clink. He pulled a bottle from another cabinet and poured two fingers into the tumblr. He slid the drink into Jo’s hand, and Jo handed it to Anna.  
Anna rolled the drink in the tumbler and collapsed into a chair.   
“I take it the trip to the city didn’t go well,” Castiel said.   
Anna tossed her hair over her shoulder and took a sip from her drink. “He wants me back in the city full time,” she said. “First he told me ‘Oh yes, Anna, go out to the country we could use that perspective,’ and then he said, ‘our readership is in the city we need you back here.’” She inhaled, long and slow. “He’s pushing me back and forth between columns. Making it harder for me to build an audience. He wants to get rid of me.”  
“Is this joker your boss?” Dean asked.   
Anna nodded. “He’s the editor. Adler started in the company at the sports mag but when that went under, he was too high up to get rid of altogether. So Dad gave him the home and garden magazine and it’s been falling under ever since. He’s killing it.” She took another drink. “It’s fucking spiteful.” She sniffed the air. “What’s burning?”  
“Oh, fuck me,”Jo exclaimed, leaping away from her sister and opening the oven. A cloud of smoke plumed out. “The carrots!” she wailed.   
“Speaking of,” Castiel murmured, and he moved around his sister and slid the pasta into the water.   
“Did you make dinner?” Anna asked.   
“We damn sure tried,”Jo answered.   
And then Anna burst into tears.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel gripped the steering wheel of the car. The station was small- county didn’t give them too big a budget- and the car was a crown vic they’d been using since the eighties. The night was quiet. The nights were usually quiet.

He looked at the file in his lap and sighed heavily.

“He’s a good kid, Gabe,” Ash had told him over a beer at the ranger’s office. “I’ve never had any problems with him at all. His brother, he’s a good kid, too.”

Gabriel had fiddled with the label on his coke. He wasn’t a drinking man, not anymore. “I hear you, Ash. And I pray God I’m wrong, you know that, but bears don’t do what happened out in that tent. They just don’t.”

“Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t Dean,” Ash told him.

Gabriel’s finger circled the glass mouth of the bottle, sticky around his fingertip.

“What the hell is your daddy up to?” Gabriel said, closing the file.

He drove home.

* * *

 

“Ya’ll be okay to walk home?” Jo asked. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “We’ll call when we get back. Don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Jo said, and she slid a tupperware of leftovers into Dean’s hand. “Don’t be strangers.”

“Don’t intend to,” Dean said, and he and his brother stepped out into the night.

The deadbolt snapped shut sharply on the door. They’d started locking the doors after the day in the cave. It made them all sleep easier.

Jo sighed heavily and walked back to the kitchen. She examined the remains of Anna’s drink, and after a moment’s consideration shot it back.

It had been a long day.

“What makes you think I was done with that?” Anna asked, walking back into the kitchen. She ran a towel through her damp hair.

Jo grinned. “I don’t wanna wash another tumbler, okay?” She dumped out the remains of the ice cube and added a fresh one. Two more fingers of whiskey.

   Anna took the tumbler and sat down across from her sister. “So Dean and Castiel,” she said, “I take it they’re still close.”

   Jo nodded. “You could call close an understatement. He’s been sneaking in at night, into Castiel’s room. It would surprise me if they weren’t fucking like rabbits.” She took the tumbler from her sister and took a sip. They both drank whiskey, and from the way the line on the bottle was sometimes a little lower than when they left it, they supposed Castiel drank brown, too. “He’s a nice boy. Helped with dinner.”

   Anna smiled. “Do you remember your first boyfriend?”

   Jo rolled her eyes. “You mean Ruby?” She laughed. “God, that was a fucking nightmare.”

   Anna laughed, too. “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

   Jo shook her head. “You didn’t. You and Dad and Castiel have been nothing but supportive. I appreciate that.”

   “You’re family,” Anna replied. “We couldn’t expect you to be any other way but yourself.”

   Jo smiled. “We’re lucky,” she said. “You know that?”

   Anna nodded. “Yes. You had another talk with Dean and Sam, I presume?”

   “That’s why Dean cooks,” Jo said, “to take care of his brother. It’s a necessity skill for him.”

   Anna took the tumbler back. “Sam’s going to be tall,” she said. “Much taller than his brother.”

* * *

 

The lights came on in the cabin, filling the space with clear, golden light. Sam yawned as Dean locked the door.

“Go ahead and get in bed,” Dean said. “You got school in the morning.”

“Am I busing?” Sam asked, “Or are you driving me?”

“I’ll take you,” Dean answered. “I’ve got work in the morning. Might as well be up a few minutes early.”

Sam nodded lazily and shuffled to his room.

Lightning struck outside and the lights flickered in their cabin. “I’m calling Anna,” Dean said. “They should know we’re back safe.”

He just had the number dialed when the power went out.

“Dean?” Jo answered the phone.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “We’re safe. Power’s down though.”

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “You good?”

“We’re fine,” Jo answered. “Want to conserve phone battery, though.”

“I hear you,” Dean said. “Holler if you need anything.” He hung up and shuffled out of his shoes and into the back of the house.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean came into his room. “Yeah, Sammy, I hear you,” he answered.

Sam had been jumpy since the cave- a little easier to startle than usual. It helped to have someone to hang on to when he slept- fought off the nightmares that liked to pop up sometimes. Dean crawled into Sam’s bed, and his little brother soon joined him, curling up next to him in a tight ball.

He’d be fourteen soon, and he was beginning to enter the stage of puberty that brought a cracking voice and pimpled skin and height. Hell, Sam was already putting food away like some sort of garbage disposal from another dimension (and wasn’t that a hunting fantasy to keep Dean up all night) and going through his thrift store pants faster than ever.

Dean inhaled long and slow.

Don’t get attached, Dean thought. They’ll leave and it’ll be just you and Sam again. Don’t get attached to them. Don’t get attached to Cas.

* * *

 

_The storm blew in suddenly. The weathermen didn’t know from where. Wild winds whipped against the trees, blowing branches and leaves and sticks from their origin to the earth below. It battered the house and the scattered cabins and the rangers office. Threatened to take a couple of tents._

_The rain slapped against the surface of the lake, churned the water, stirred the muck and mud._

_And beneath the turbid water, it woke up_.


	4. Chapter 4

Everything was terribly wet and very, very green when they woke up the next morning. They still didn’t have power, but the water heater was still broken anyway and Sam was alright toughing out the cold. They had cold cereal for breakfast and hoped that milk was still good before they climbed in the car.

The drive to Sam’s school wasn’t too far, but Dean went slowly on the wet roads. He turned the radio down a bit, not limiting any kind of conversation Sam might want. Dean, he wasn’t much of a talker, but he’d talk for the benefit for his brother or for Castiel.

“Be good,” Dean said as his brother climbed out of the car.

“I know,” Sam answered. “I’ll catch the bus home.”

Dean nodded. “Alright. Hopefully we’ll have fucking power by then.”

Sam shut the door and loped inside. Dean skidded off and drove back to the lake.

* * *

 

Ash’s feet were propped up on his desk, leaning back in his chair. He had a Harlequin Romance novel spread in his hands, brow creased in concentration.

Dean stomped into the rangers office, wet clothes sticking to his back. “Damn typhoon out there,” he said. The small wooden office howled around him, the wind and rain rattling the windows.

“Ayup,” Ash said. “Makes a man damn glad to be high up on the chain of command.”

“You’re a real son of a gun, you know that?” Dean asked, futilely zipping on a rain jacket.

“Ayup,” Ash repeated. “Be careful out there, alright?”

“Always am,” Dean answered.

“Oh by the way,” Ash added, “be keeping your head down. The Sheriff's been asking questions about you.”

Dean paled slightly. “Really?” he asked. “What’s he been asking?”

Ash shrugged noncommittally. “Nothing too serious. Mostly about your schooling and your pa.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, thanks.” He nodded a couple of times before pulling the hood on the jacket over his head and stepping back into the storm.

 

* * *

 

Sam was utterly drenched by the time he finally got back to the cabin. The storm had started back up about an hour into classes, and he bemoaned the fact that he’d told Dean he’d be riding the bus home. He did his homework at lunch and shoved his books into his locker so they wouldn’t get ruined by the rain.

Luckily, nothing important was ruined when he got into the cabin, but he did feel like he was going to have to peel all of his clothes off like a bandaid.

He flicked the lights on back-and-forth a couple of times, but there was still no luck. “Shit,” he murmured under his breath. He pulled his clothes off in the bathroom and squeezed the water out of them. He pulled on dry clothes before he walked into the kitchen and tugged open the pantry.

He rolled his eyes and popped the blown fuses back on. The lights flickered back on soon after.

“Jeez,” he murmured to himself. “Bet the hot water heater is just a bad switch, too.”

He flicked on the little radio in the kitchen just to have noise in the house other than the rain and had just sat down with a volume of maritime lore (the boat was still in construction, but Sam was reluctant to work on it without Dean around) when a knock came on the door.

It was too soon for Dean to be done with work. Sam frowned but got back up. He peered out of the peephole on the front door.

A short guy stood in front of the door in a khaki police uniform- a sheriff’s uniform, Sam realized. He had a large green umbrella over him, and the wind was trying desperately to tug it away.

“Anyone in there?” He squawked. “I’d just like to talk to Dean Winchester.”

Sam bit his lip and shifted from foot to foot. He said a few lines of latin, a nervous habit, and opened the door.

“He’s not in,” he said. “But I’m his brother.”

The sheriff was younger than Sam would expect, and short, too. Everything about him sang of the color yellow- something gold and warm. He smiled at Sam. “May I come in?” He asked.

“Chirsto,” Sam murmured under his breath.

“Pardon?” the Sheriff asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said. “Sorry, I’ve got a cold. Please, come in.”

The sheriff shook out his umbrella and stomped his feet on the concrete porch before stepping inside. He tugged off his hat. “D’you have somewhere I could hang these?” He asked.

Sam blushed and shook his head. ‘No,” he answered. “Sorry, it’s usually just me and Dean.”

“Dean and me,” the sheriff corrected. “Do you have a name?”

“Sam,” he answered, his voice cracking halfway through the word. He blushed, extending his hand. “Sam,” he repeated. “Sam Winchester.”

“Gabriel Novak,” he answered, taking Sam’s hand. “I’m the local sheriff, but you can just call me Gabriel, everyone else in town does, too.”

Sam fidgeted. “Can I get you anything? We might have some tea or something.”

Gabriel smiled brightly. “That’d be lovely, actually. Divine, even.”

* * *

 

 

The storm had picked up in intensity. Dean was glad that he was out of tornado country. He and Sam, they’d been all over the midwest and they’d braved more than one storm in the Impala, pulled to the side of the road. Praying in earnest.

He was glad to see that the lights were on in their house, but he was slightly less pleased to see the police cruiser parked up their gravel drive.

“What the hell,” he muttered as he opened the door and lightning crackled overhead.

“Dean!” Sam cried from their kitchen and Dean came through the backdoor. “You’re home just in time- we’ve got company!”

“Yeah, I could see,” he answered. “Everything okay?”

The sheriff walked into the kitchen from the den, smiling sheepishly. “It’s not business, just a social call, Mr. Winchester.”

“Dean,” he corrected. “You can call me Dean.”

The sheriff smiled. “Thank you, Dean. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Gabriel. God knows everyone else does.” Sam passed him a mug full of herbal tea. The sheriff sniffed it suspiciously. “Could I get some sugar?” He asked. Sam nodded and handed him the bowl and a spoon. “Much obliged,” he said and began to add spoonful after spoonful of sugar to the cup.

“Is there anything we could help you with?” Sam asked.

“Well,” the sheriff said, “I just wanted to talk to your brother about what happened out at the campsite a little more. Nothing official, of course. In fact,” the sheriff said, setting down his mug, “off the clock entirely.” He tugged his badge off and put it in his pocket. He held his hands outward, empty.

I’m not a threat, trust me.

“Haven’t you got some homework to do?” Dean asked. Sam nodded and left the kitchen.

“Ash told me your folks weren’t around,” he said, still adding sugar to the tea. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Were getting settled in all right, didn’t need anything.”

“We’re fine,” Dean said warily. “Don’t need nothin’ at all.”

The sheriff kept adding sugar to the tea. “I mean it,” he said. “If you and your brother need anything, you let me know. I know it can be hard to grow up without help.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. The spoon kept dancing from the sugar bowl to the mug. “Help?” He asked.

“Listen, I don’t plan on calling social services or anything like that on you. Your brother’s in school, you’re in a job, and neither of you are starving. You’re responsible. I don’t want your brother in a home any more than you do.” His eyes flashed from the sugar bowl to Dean’s. “You have no idea how much I don’t want your brother in a home.”

It could have been the storm wailing all around them, could have been a trick of the light, but Dean could have sworn he saw something flash in the sheriff’s eyes. Something of an experience. Something like a little kid who grew up scared and alone becoming something like a superhero. Something like, I’ve been in a home, kid, and I’m not here to drag your brother away. You gotta fucking believe me.  

“The storm made it harder to pick up hours at the ranger’s office today. What happened at the campsite did, too. Next couple of weeks are gonna be a bit thin for Sam and me. If you know anyone in the area, I’m good with my hands. Hard worker,” Dean said. The words were strained and strange in the air. 

It was very clear that Dean did not want to ask for the help.

The sheriff stuck the spoon into the mug, finally, and stirred it. “I’ll ask around,” he replied, taking a sip. “Lots of little business in town. I’m sure someone needs help sweeping up.” His sucking sip against the cup of tea rang loudly in the room.

There was a tense silence, before the sheriff finally said, “What happened out at that campsite, bears don’t do that.”

Dean held the sheriff’s gaze. The man reached back down to the table, grabbing the tea and taking another sip.

“I’d bet your daddy knows what does, though,” he said, keeping Dean’s stare.

“My dad does all sorts of stuff, sheriff, that I don’t. I hope you know that,” Dean replied. His voice was clipped and sharp. Thunder growled outside.

The mug went back down on the table. “Listen,” he said. “I’m not meaning to impugn your character-”

“But you sure as hell are!” Dean shouted. “Listen, my dad...my dad is a hell of man. Good for a lot of things. Not always a great father but he fucking tried. I don’t know what the hell kind of a sheet you’ve got on him, but he’d never kill a man in cold blood and he sure couldn’t do what happened at that campsite. I don’t think anyone could do what happened at that campsite. That-that-” And it started again, that grasping feeling in him. The pressing sensation of voicelessness.

“Hey,” the sheriff said, “I understand. I saw it too. It’s okay, alright? It’s okay.”

Dean tried to breathe, but it felt like he was drowning.

And that was new.

He gasped, openmouthed and felt the world beginning to grow fuzzy around him.

“Hey kid,” the sheriff called. “Dean?”

And then everything became black.


	5. Chapter 5

The sheriff- Gabriel, as he kept insisting- was nice enough, but there was still something terrifying about waiting in the hospital on his own.

Sam had had the presence of mind to grab his older brother’s leather jacket as they rushed from the kitchen to the sheriff’s car. He curled up into it, too big on him. It still smelled like Dad, but by now it actually smelled like Dean. Smelled like home.

“This happens,” the sheriff said, looking away from Sam, at the window. “Believe me, this happens. I don’t know how much of that campsite your brother...talked to you about, but people,” he inhaled, long and slow, “we’re not wired to handle that kind of violence.”

“How’d you know?” Sam said into the collar of the jacket. He regretted it as soon as he made out the words.

“Few uh, few war buddies of mine, they...checked out early,” the sheriff said. His throat cracked around the words.

Sam peered out over the edge of the jacket at the sheriff. “You were in a war?” He asked.

“Don’t join the army, kiddo,” the sheriff said. “No matter how bleak shit seems, don’t join the army.”

Sam nodded in the collar of the jacket. “Yes, sir,” he murmured.

The sheriff shook his head. “Don’t call me that,” he said. “Please. Gabriel.”

Jo was still in scrubs when she came before them, her hair tucked up and away. It was strange to see her in such an official capacity, strange to see her on the job. She looked tight and controlled, but secure in her position. The uniform suited her well.

“We’ve checked everything out,” she said. “It looks like it was just a panic attack, though. Especially given the circumstances of the past couple of weeks, it looks like your brother has been under some pretty serious stresses.” She smiled, faintly. “I can’t imagine he’s been getting enough sleep.”

“How much is this going to cost?” Sam asked. “We don’t-we don’t- things have been-”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” the sheri- Gabriel said. “It’ll get taken care of.”

“He’ll be good to leave, soon,” she continued.

Castiel and Anna rounded the corner suddenly, disheveled. “How is he?” Casitel demanded, pulling a hood back from wet hair. “What happened?”

“It looks like it was a panic attack,” Jo answered. “We checked him out, he seems to be fine, otherwise.”

Anna pulled a ribbon from her purse and tied back her long red hair into a neat bun. “We came as soon as we heard. Apparently, Castiel is one of Dean’s emergency contacts.”

Castiel blushed furiously. “I thought,” he said, “I thought we should know if he got hurt.”

Anna turned to the sheriff and raised an eyebrow. “Sheriff,” she greeted.

“Ms. Milton,” he replied.

‘What are you doing here?” She asked. “I didn’t think what happened with the Winchesters required police escort.”

“He drove us,” Sam answered. “He was talking to Dean and he just passed out. We wouldn’t have been able to make it here without his help.”

“It was nothing official, Ms. Milton,” the sheriff said. “Just a social call, I swear.”

Anna rose an eyebrow- doubtful and imperious. She nodded, finally, in a curt way that implied that business was not quite done, merely tabled.

 “When can I see him?” Sam asked. “When will he come home?”

“He’s sedated right now,” Jo answered. “You can head on back and see him. He probably won’t be awake until tomorrow. He’ll be good to go home by then.”

Sam stood up and brushed his hair back from his face- a little shyly. “Please?” He asked.

Jo smiled and placed her arm around his shoulder, guiding him down a hall.

Gabriel and Anna and Castiel watched them go. Gabriel stood up and set his hat back on top of his head. “I should probably step on out. Am I safe to assume the boys will get home safe with ya’ll?”  
“We’ll call you,” Anna responded.

Gabriel smiled and tipped his hat. “I’ll be seeing ya’ll,” and he turned and strutted back down the hall.

Castiel and Anna watched him go with a vague sense of unease.

* * *

 

 

Dean looked so small in the hospital bed, and Sam’s fingers hurt from flexing and unflexing inside of the pockets of his brother’s jacket.

The lights were low. There was a low song of a heart monitor.

The past couple of months, Sam had started growing taller. His pants came a little too short at his ankles, his shirts too high on his belly, his shoes not lasting as long as they used to. He’d turn fourteen in a handful of weeks- not long now. He felt spindly, like a beanstalk that was trying to get too tall too fast, and nothing showed signs of stopping. His brother already stood at six foot, and while Sam dwarfed him by a couple of inches, he felt something distant, like the far cry of thunder, that whispered that he might stand tall over his brother.

He already felt like a giant, standing while his brother lay in the hospital bed.

“Hey, Dean,” he said, pulling over a chair. “How’re you feelin’?”

* * *

 

 

Jo came back to the reception area and looked exhausted. She pointed at her brother. “I swear to god, if you or Sam get injured again in the next two weeks, I will kill you myself and never look back.”

“Can I see him?” Castiel asked.

Jo shook her head. “It’s officially family only, and even then, I had to pull a few strings to get Sam in there.” She slouched down into a chair and yawned expressively. “The paperwork in Dean’s wallet is all in fake names. They’re serious- they don’t have anything.”

“Jesus,” Anna murmured. “What kind of- what kind of a-” She inhaled, long and slow. “What kind of a father doesn’t...provide? They...what they do- what they did is dangerous and they did it without a safety net? They-what if they got concussed or broke a bone what if-”

“They didn’t,” Jo interrupted. “They didn’t and they won’t again, okay? We’re here.”

“Can you make sure they don’t see the bill?” Anna asked.

Jo nodded. She smoothed her hair back away from her face and stood back up. “I’m going to go see if Sam can be pulled from the room. He’ll have school tomorrow.”

Castiel shook his head. “He won’t leave. You may not want to waste your breath.”

“Gotta try, at any rate,” Jo replied.

* * *

 

 

He had the kind of headache he got when he was coming down from a sedative when he woke up- the kind he got when he’d had pneumonia as a kid and Dad put him under so he could get some rest with the oxygen mask on. Dean blinked heavily a couple of times before his vision re-focused and he could make sense of where he was.

“Sammy?” He croaked. “Sam?”

He was in a hospital room- that much was clear from the IV in his arm and the starched sheets and the too big bed. He rolled over onto his side, and his brother was sitting up, looking like he’d just woken up.

“What happened?” He asked. “Where’s the sheriff?”

“You, you passed out,” Sam answered, coughing. “In the kitchen. You spent the night here.”

Dean felt his heart sink. “How- how are we paying for this?” He asked. He pulled his hair back from his head and sat up. “What are we going to do?”

“Jo said she was talking to people about it,” he answered. “She said that there was some fund for the hospital or something. They do pro bono work or something sometimes. She said she’d talk to you about it later.”

Dean nodded a couple of times. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Why aren’t you in school?”

“I’ve only missed once this semester,” he replied, sitting back up. His dark hair was a mess, and he brushed it away. “And you were in the hospital. You’re not supposed to do that. I think that’s a valid excuse.”

Dean nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

 

Castiel hated sleeping in hospital chairs. He’d done it a few times, though, and he’d picked up the knack even if he did hate it. The sleep was dreamless and dark. Dead to the world until a gruff voice came all around him.

“Aw, Cas,” he said. “Were you waiting for me?”

Castiel opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times.

“Hello, Dean,” he replied. His voice was rough from sleep.

Dean was leaning over him, face close. His vision was full of Dean’s green eyes and freckles and warm smile. “Didya sleep well?” He asked.

Castiel glared at him. “I would have preferred if you’d been next to be and not in a hospital bed,” he replied.

Dean laughed and stood back up. “Yeah, me too. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I decide to pass out.” He pulled his jacket on, surrendered by his brother. “I hear you and your sisters are my ride back?”

Castiel stretched as he stood and his back popped mightily. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said. “A boy stays in the hospital for you all night and you only come see me when you need to go.” He leaned over a hugged Dean closely. Dean kissed the top of his head tenderly as Castiel whispered, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Anna coughed from nearby. “We need to make sure you’re checked out,” she said, “and then we need to get you and Sam fed.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean answered. “Do you have a phone? I need to call the ranger’s office and tell them I’ll be late.”

Anna tucked a curtain of red hair behind her ear and raised an eyebrow. “Late?” She asked. “You spent the night in the hospital- you shouldn’t go in.”

“I can’t afford not to,” Dean said. “Between the...campsite and the rain, I need the hours, and there are going to be bills coming in soon and I-”

Anna shook her head. “No, you’re taking a day off,” she said. “And you’re not thinking about that right now. We’re going to get some food in you and you’re going to rest.”

Dean inhaled, readying himself to protest, and Anna placed her hands on her hips and he knew that there was no way he was winning this argument. “Yes ma’am,” he repeated. “I should still call and let them know what happened.”

He pretended not to hear his brother snorting nearby.

“Jo already did,” she said, ignoring Dean. “Go sign your papers and then let’s get breakfast.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

The car was crowded- Anna and Jo in the front seat and Sam, Castiel, and Dean in the back. It wasn’t a long drive from the hospital to the greasy spoon in the middle of town, but their legs still cracked when they stretched out of the car.

Dean wobbled on his legs a little, and Sam ducked under his brother’s arm and supported him.  “Jesus,” he murmured. “Man spends the night in the hospital and suddenly he can’t stand on his own feet.”

Sam punched him in the ribs, and Dean coughed around his laughter.

The bell above the door rang, and they all filed into a booth at the far side of the diner. “Be right with you,” a waitress called, pouring a cup of coffee.

“You have to eat a fruit or a vegetable,” Anna said, scrutinizing a menu. “And I don’t mean some kind of a syrup or a potato.”

Castiel and Jo nodded, aware of protocol. Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded, too, a little concerned.

The waitress had long red hair and an apron tied over jeans and a worn, red t-shirt. A pin glinted just over her left-breast- the triangular curve of Star Fleet Insignia. “Hi,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I get the...fruit salad, a bowl of oatmeal, and a glass of orange juice?” Anna asked.

The waitress jotted the order down, nodding absently.

“I’d like a bowl of oatmeal, an omlette with mushrooms and peppers, and water,” Casitel said.

The waitress continued writing.

“Can I get the fruit salad?” Sam asked. “Water to drink.”

Dean smiled as he handed the menu back. “The same,” he said.

The waitress looked at Jo and smiled. “And you?” she asked.

Jo blushed and looked back and forth from the menu to the waitress a few times. “Ah,” she said, stumbling over her voice. “Can I get three cups of coffee, black, a stack of the pancakes drowned in syrup, a mess of bacon, an omelette with mushrooms and cheese, a cinnamon bun and,” she glanced back over the menu, “an apple pie.”

The waitress’ eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled. “Big appetite,” she commented, grinning.

“Long shift,” Jo answered, her blush deepening a little.

The waitress tucked her pencil back behind her ear. “I’ll have it right out,” she said, and dashed off.

Castiel and Anna looked and Jo and smiled the same terrible smile.

Anna even crooked an eyebrow suggestively.

Dean looked from Anna to Jo. From Jo, to Anna. Back again.

“Wait,” he said. “You’re...you...?”

“I bat for both teams,” Jo answered.

Dean looked nonplussed. “Never would have guessed,” he said, shrugging.

Jo smiled loosely. “You’re one to talk,” she replied, and Dean blushed this time.

He jumped a bit, too, when Castiel’s foot traveled up the length of his leg.

Their food came quickly, and Jo took a cup of coffee for herself and pushed the others to Anna and Dean. She took half of the omelette and a couple of the pancakes and then pushed the rest to the center of the table. She gestured to the plates. “You’re not paying for your breakfast and I know that the melon won’t be enough for you. Eat.”

Dean shook his head. “I can handle it, really,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Picking between food or electricity is a big deal,” Jo said. “Let us get breakfast for you, alright?”

Dean looked at Jo intensely for a few seconds before nodding. “Thanks,” he said.

Jo took a bit of the omelette and gestured to the food.

Sam snagged the rest of the pancakes and began to eat hungrily.

* * *

 

_It had slept so long, there at the bottom of the lake- long enough that it could remember a time when the lake was much, much bigger. Slept so long it remembered the faint cry of believers. Slept so long it had very nearly...forgotten. Forgotten how large it was._

_It stretched after hearing the echoing cry from the caves and remembered._

* * *

 

Ash ran his hands through his hair. It was oily- he hadn’t showered that morning and he felt it in the way it ran under his fingers. It had been a quiet day, but then again the days were usually quiet, especially since Bobby Singer had sent the Winchester boy.

Turned out the park was run by a fund, and the fund had enough money to support one head ranger who did paperwork and kept an eye on the weather equipment and one ranger who did all of the...well, all of the actual work. That wasn’t too bad, though. Ash had a list of books as long as his arm that he’d needed to read since he got kicked out of MIT.

He licked a finger and turned the page on Cosmos. The phone rang.

Ash waited three rings before he laid his book down on his desk and answered the phone.

“Lake Milton ranger’s office,” he answered, voice slow. “Ash speaking. How can I help you?”

Ash wasn’t a shouting man. Wasn’t much a swearing man either. In fact, Ash had frequently been described as mellow or even permanently stoned.

When he heard the panicked voice of the woman on the other end say they went camping and I haven’t heard from them and missing, it took a hell of a lot of self control not to shout some profanities.

 

* * *

Dean felt a good deal steadier with food in his system- no longer felt like he was made of glass. He felt solid as he walked back to the car and real as he squeezed into the backseat with Castiel and Sam.

They all sat quietly in the car together as they drove from the town back out to the lake. It was a ways off, about a forty five minute drive. The car was warm, and Dean felt safe between his brother and Castiel, who had nodded off not long after leaving the diner.

His head rested on Dean’s shoulder, his mouth open a bit. His dark hair was mussed and his arm was wound around Dean’s. He snored softly.

Sam nudged him sharply from the other side and Dean looked at him. Sam smirked and gave him a thumbs up. Dean rolled his eyes.

Castiel murmured, so softly Dean nearly didn’t hear it, “In the water.”

 

* * *

The mud was too dark under his shoes, and Gabriel didn’t like it.

“Ash,” he asked, “does it always look like this?”

Ash rose an eyebrow. “No,” he said. “Lot of rain lately, though. Probably just wet.”

Gabriel looked at Ash and back at the mud. Anything to keep from looking at what they’d found.

“Have you called the parents?” Ash asked.

Gabriel shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I don’t much want to.”

It was missing a couple of fingers, but it was intact but for the fact that it wasn’t attached to a body. The arm was long and slim. A bracelet was around the wrist, pink beads on white thread.

Not too far was the head, a man’s. Intact but for being unattached to a body and missing the eyes.

“Gabriel, I can go ahead and tell you that this weren’t no bear,” Ash said. “Bears don’t live in the water.”

“The lake needs to be closed for a couple of days,” Gabriel said. “No campers. The Miltons and Winchesters, they might want to take some leave.”

“Gabriel, they own those houses. We can’t get rid of them,” Ash said.

“Ash, we’ve had two sets of suspicious deaths in as many months and I can’t have more people getting hurt. Do some research on the local animals or do maintenance or something,” Gabriel snapped. “I have to make sure no one else is gonna get killed and if that means a couple of fights with the Miltons, so be it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled out a sucker. He unwrapped it and jammed it into his mouth. “Someone higher up will be coming,” he said bitterly.

Ash nodded. “Shit just got real.”

“Is that from Hot Fuzz?” Gabriel asked, incredulous.

* * *

 

Dean laid back on his couch and inhaled long and slow. The morning had been long and trying, and was still tired despite sleeping through the night. Weird thing about passing out and spending the night in the hospital- the rest always seemed thin and artificial.

He let his eyes settle closed. He felt like he had been lying asleep for seconds when he heard the front door open and felt someone lie on top of him.

* * *

 

The smell of Castiel’s shampoo was itchy and fruity and floral under his nose. Dean chuckled. “Do you let your sisters buy your shampoo?” He asked.

“You love it,” was the answer. Castiel was a warm, sure weight on top of him, his skin and clothes were soft. “You’re not allowed to get hurt,” he murmured.

“I know, angel,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

“You guys are so gross!” Sam shouted from the back of the house before he shut his door.

It was warm and safe, and they both fell asleep there. It was good even with Castiel’s elbows in his ribs and his knees in his thighs. They slept there until there was a knock at the door.

Castiel’s hair stood up on one side as he got up from Dean’s chest. Dean’s arms were asleep. “Sam!” He called. “Door!”

“Get it yourself, jerk!” was the answer.

“Can’t get off the couch with Cas’s fat ass on top of me, bitch!” Dean called back.

Sam stormed from the back of the house to the front door, taking a moment to glare at Dean and Cas as they disentangled themselves from each other.

Sam opened the door.

The Sheriff stood on their doorstep, hat in hands, looking grim.

“Sheriff!” Sam cried. “Good afternoon! Please come in!”

Dean and Cas got up from the couch very quickly. “Afternoon, Sheriff!” Dean called. “How can we help you?”

“I’ve ah,” the Sheriff said, easing his weight from foot to foot. “I’ve got some bad news.”

Dean frowned. “What happened?”

“We’ve found,” the Sheriff frowned and sighed, “we’ve found...some body parts, at the shore. It’s pretty ugly.”

“When you say ‘body parts’,” Dean began.

“I mean left arms, a head, a leg, and a mess of intestines. Near as we can tell, they all came from different people.”

Sam paled noticeably and sat down.

Gabriel looked at him, concerned. “We uh,” he said, “We’re recommending that people who have residence at the lake stay with family or in a hotel for a few nights. Considering what happened in that...tent a few weeks ago, we think it might be prudent to ah, to close the lake for a few days. Just to be safe.”

“You want us to get out,” Dean said.

Gabriel rubbed at his neck. “We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. The sheriff’s office can put you guys up in a hotel if you need. We want a couple of days to clear the forest, make sure there aren’t any wild animals we’ve missed or something.”

Dean nodded. “Thanks for letting us know,” he said. “Sam and I, we’re ah, we’re going to need some ah...”

“Oh!” The Sheriff said. “Sure. You’re a Milton, right?” He asked, pointing to Castiel. Castiel nodded. “I’m swinging by your place to tell your sisters. Let me give you a ride.”

Castiel leaned over and kissed Dean on the cheek. He looked at him, seriously. “Be safe,” he said.

Dean watched him walk out the door before he turned and looked at his brother.

Sam was panicking.

Dean walked over to his brother and pulled him into a hug.  “Hey,” he said, “this doesn’t have to be on us. We can sneak back, get the car, and drive away. No Dad, no Uncle Bobby, no newspapers, no lakes. It can just be me and you, kid, against the world.”

Sam shook his head. “We were supposed to be safe. And then we took care of it, and now...now it’s all wrong again. And it’ll never be safe, Dean’s we’ll never be safe and I hate it, I hate it so much.” His little brother’s voice cracked. “I just want to be normal.”

Sam started sobbing into his shoulder.

“I know, Sammy,” Dean said. “I know. I do, too.”

“Why is it so hard?” Sam said hoarsely. “Why us?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Dean answered. “I don’t know. It doesn’t have to be ours, though, okay? We can send out a call to someone else, tell them what we know, tell the Miltons to get out of town, and we can wait it out. We don’t ever have to hunt again.”

They stayed like that for a long time, until Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, flipped it open.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Dean,” Castiel said. “My sisters and I, we’re going to be staying at a hotel in town. I’d like to- I’d like to see you.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “We’ll see what we can do. It might be a little bit, but uh, we’ll see you.”

He hung up and turned to his brother. “If you want to leave, we can pack up the car, right now. We can be gone. I mean it.”

Sam wiped his eyes, shook his head. “No,” he said. “Let’s just pack for a couple of days, okay? I’m not-I don’t want to go.”

Dean nodded. “Okay,” he answered. “We can do that.”

Funny thing about not having that much stuff- packing for a couple of days looked a lot like packing everything in the house.

He locked the door. He climbed into the driver’s seat. They drove away.

* * *

 

Anna came back into their hotel room, phone in her hands. She looked shocked. Dumbfounded. Numb.

“Zachariah Adler just died,” she said.

“What?” Jo asked. “Are you serious?”

Anna nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes. The office has asked me to head back to the city so that I can meet the new editor.”

“Well,” Jo said, “we can just stay here for the night and then drive through to the city tomorrow morning. It’ll be great.”

Castiel sat up from where he had been laying on the bed. “No,” he said, suddenly. “No, we can’t.”

Anna and Jo looked at him quizically.

“I mean,” he said, “I mean, I can’t. I can’t- I can’t leave Sam and Dean. I can’t leave Dean.”

“Castiel,” Jo said, “I know that at this point in your life-”

“I’ve never felt around anyone the way I feel around him, Jo. With him- with Dean, I’m whole,” he said desperately.

“Cas, you’re barely eighteen, can’t you just wait a little before making these kind of decisions?” She argued.

“I’m an adult, Jo, when am I supposed to start making them?”

“I wish you’d been an adult making decisions when college decisions came out!” Anna shouted.

Castiel clenched his hands into fists and looked at the floor. “It didn’t matter then,” he said. “I didn’t think anything mattered then. And Dean’s not all that matters, but he does matter to me. He makes me feel like I matter. And I’m staying here,” he said.

Jo looked at him levelly and cooly. “Okay,” she said.

* * *

 

Dean got another call from Castiel, and then he drove hurriedly to the hotel. The air had turned grey by the time he got there, and he kicked the door open for him.

“I thought you were staying with your sisters,” Dean said as he drove off toward where he and Sam were staying.

Castiel shook his head. “They were heading back to the city. For good. And I couldn’t- Dean, I,” he sighed. “Dean-”

“I get it,” Dean interrupted. “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“We can’t really afford a hotel right now,” Dean said. “My dad’s got a friend in North Dakota. Push through the night, hole up with him, maybe do a little reading on what’s going on here. Help someone else get up on the case.”

“You think this is...this is more...what we knew weren’t bears,” Castiel said.

“We’ve had weird weather patterns lately,” Sam murmured sleepily from the backseat. “And there’s been strange activity at the lake. It’s in the water.”

Dean pointed into the backseat. “Kid watches the weather for ten minutes and listens to the police scanner and he’s got the whole thing figured out already.”

Castiel smiled a little sadly. He pulled his jacket around his shoulders a little more tightly.

Dean frowned. “Hey, are you okay?”

Castiel nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, just sleepy.”

Dean turned the volume down on the stereo a little. Shrugged out of his own jacket and slid it into the intermediary space between them.

“Go ahead and get some rest, okay?” He said. “We’ve got a long drive, plenty of time to relax.”

Castiel smiled and curled up against the glass of the window. Pulled Dean’s jacket around him like a security blanket, which it kind of was.

Dean kept one eye on him and one eye on the road on the way to North Dakota.

 

* * *

 

_It felt it sharply when they left- the boy and the heir and the one...the one with something strange. It thought maybe they would come back- this happened, they would be gone for a few hours but they always came back. They’d always be so close. It could always reach out._

_Now, though, they were beyond its grasp._

_They were beyond its grasp, and it was screaming._


End file.
